Meet the Shepard's
by Straumoy
Summary: <html><head></head>After the Reaper War, Garrus receives a message from Shepard to visit her at her Citadel apartment. Puzzled by this sudden invitation, Garrus heads over right away to investigate.</html>


**Meet the Shepard's**

Some 20 months had passed since the fateful battle over Earth. The galaxy was still at large more or less in chaos. Progress was being made, but it was clear to anyone with a head on his shoulders that they had a long way to go before things could even be considered remotely normal. For now, the Citadel was being repaired and running in parallel, Mass Relay's near Sol system was given priority as far as repairs went. It was unclear how to move the Citadel or if it even could be done without the Reapers. For now, it hung in a stable orbit around Earth. Beaten, but not broken.

Garrus Vakarian was walking at a stressed, swift phase. Just a few hours ago he got an unusual message. It was an invitation to Shepard's apartment on the Citadel, which was fortunately located on the Citadel arm that took the least damage. Finally the galaxy decided to give to commander some slack. Spirits know Shepard had earned it. What had Garrus so upset was that ever since the Crucible went live, word on the commander had gone completely dark. Alive, dead, missing? All bets were off. Not a pip, even whatever remained of Liara's Shadow Broker network couldn't dig up anything.

So why now? Why a casual invite to the apartment as if nothing big had ever happened? The wording in the message was also a little off. Familiar, but just enough off to make Garrus nervous, suspicious, or both. It would all play out, for better or worse in the next few hours. Garrus braced himself and pushed the doorbell. Save the background noise of construction work, it was some long and silent seconds that ticked away. It was like watching Hanar mating videos, in slow motion.

"Yes?" The doorbell speaker cracked. The video screen was broken, so there was no visual of whomever was answering.

"Shepard? Garrus here, I got your message." Garrus leaned into the microphone light, resting his hands on the wall.

No reply, but a moment later the door buzzed open and Garrus stepped right in. The hallway leading to Shepard's front door was dusty and cluttered with tools and leftovers from repair jobs. Its air thick with moist and dust, giving it a distinct smog like taste, smell and feel to it. A small sniffed sneeze escaped Garrus' nose as he rather carefully tip-toed between the tools scattered about. He was right at the door and ready to give it a polite knock when it opened.

It was an elderly woman that opened the door to the apartment. To Garrus she looked awfully familiar, but it as if she was missing something that prevent him from placing her. Her hair was short, icy silver. Green, strong eyes that did not strike Garrus as someone too burden down by the apocalyptic events that had recently transpired. She carried herself with confidence and pride, her aura reeked of an old, intense fire that has since waned to a slumbering ember.

"Mr Vakarian, am I right?" She asked, even her dialect sounded familiar to Garrus.

"Yes..." He replied somewhat hesitant.

"Please, do come in. Have a seat." The woman invited.

Skeptical and vary, Garrus accepted the invitation. He'd come this far, no reason to turn tail at the sight of a stranger. The apartment was different compared to when Garrus was here last, during their shore leave before hitting Cerberus HQ. It had clearly taken a beating, but it was for the most part intact. Nearly all of the furniture was covered up in thick, long white sheets. Paint buckets, brushes, a few ladders and other tools were lined up against the wall near the entrance door. Most of the fancy features of the apartment were disabled, leaving a feeling of bare boned. The woman offered Garrus a glass of ice water and headed upstairs. Taking a seat in the sofa, Garrus sipped his ice water while taking in his surroundings. The apartment were deadly silent, except when the occasional car swooshed by the windows and running water from upstairs.

"Jane, sweetheart? Garrus is here to see you." The woman called from upstairs.

"What?! MOM! You'd... how... NO!" Garrus could clearly hear Shepard from the upstairs bath.

By the sound of things, Shepard was taken off guard and clearly flustered. A highly unusual scenario Garrus mused to himself, a galactic first as far as he knew. Water splashed around loudly, followed by wet feet stomping around over tiled floor.

"Jane dear, your panties are on the wrong way." Shepard's mother commented calmly.

"MOM! Would you...! Just go! No, wait! Where are my pants?!" Shepard's angry, stressed voice complained.

"In the washer of course. Drell vomit must be washed off as quickly as possible." Shepard's mother replied, still calm as a winter sunrise.

"You washed my pants? What am I suppose to wear?!" Shepard almost sounded pleadingly.

"T-shirt and shorts I suppose. Your luggage was never unloaded from the shuttle by a mistake. You'll have them back tomorrow evening." Shepard's mother casually suggested.

Whatever Shepard said next escaped Garrus completely. Judging from the tone of Shepard's voice, it was clear it was not happy words that were spoken. Though it seemed to be a local variant of various curse words, which were outside of the translators dictionary. Despite all the ruckus and harsh language, Shepard's mother remained calm and collected. She might just as well watch spring arrive, Garrus thought to himself as he watched her walking down the stairway.

A minute or so later, Shepard walked down as well. By reflex and old habit, Garrus got to his feet. A bit faster than usual, this whole scenario had him more on edge than normal. Shepard wore a washed out gray t-shirt and a pair of dark gray shorts with a small N7 logo on the right leg. Her short red hair were vaguely in place, thanks to a rushed drying with a towel and her skin was more pink than usual. Whether that was due to embarrassment or the hot bath was hard to say. Her lovely green eyes seemed dead and distant, the pupils hissed an unnatural red glow and there were several crack like scars over her face. These scars pulsated with the same unnatural red glow as Shepard's eyes.

Garrus was in all honesty so taken aback by this radical change in Shepard's appearance that he couldn't move an inch, let alone say anything. She seemed downcast and in low spirits as she sunk into the sofa next to where Garrus was standing. Shepard's mother took a seat in a chair opposite of the coffee table. A moment later Garrus' common sense rebooted and he too took a seat, trying not to stare at Shepard, which manifested itself as restless fidgeting.

"So... Drell vomit, huh?" Garrus said more to himself than to anyone else.

"Oh you wouldn't believe it Mr Vakarian. There was a storm coming in just as Jane's shuttle took off from Newcastle. One of the passengers didn't really like that and..." Shepard's mother started babbling away in a merry tone, as if they were old friends catching up.

"Moooooom... could you not?" Shepard groaned with embarrassment.

"Goodness, where are my manners. I'm Jane's mother, Hannah Shepard. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Mr Vakarian." Hannah said with a formal, yet friendly tone.

"Not at all Mrs... erm... Rear Admiral. Pleasure is all mine." Garrus hastily replied, dripping with nervousness and giving off an awkwardly stiff nod.

Shepard who was sitting to his left was burying her face in her left palm, clearly finding the situation unbearable. While this wasn't really what Garrus had in mind when he went to visit Shepard, this is where he was at. He figured he'd play whatever cards he had to the best of his ability.

"Is there... any reason for me being invited?" Garrus carefully proceeded into uncharted space.

"Oh no, I just wanted to meet you in person Mr Vakarian. I've heard a good deal about you from Jane. Now that things have finally settled down, I figured I better take this chance, or it might not present itself ever again." Hannah replied with honesty, though Garrus suspected that it was more to it than that.

"Mom..." Shepard sighed. "Could we... maybe do this another time? A time when I'm given more than 20 seconds to prepare?"

Garrus looked over at Shepard and he started noticing little details that had escaped him at first glance; sign of fatigue, stress, lack of sleep and trembling hands. This was wrong on so many levels, he didn't even know where to start. Garrus felt a stone grow in his gut. By the time it felt like a massive boulder, he was ready to get up and walk straight out that door. Or vomit all over the coffee table. Not very stylish, but at this point it was a very, very valid option. Before he could do anything however, Hannah cut him short.

"Fine, fine. I'll take my leave Jane. Come along Mr Vakarian. Walk me to the cab, would you?" She asked, getting up from her chair.

Shepard remained seated, while Garrus got up and tagged after Hannah like a lost puppy, reluctant to leave home. Hannah put on a coat and opened the door leading to the hallway just outside Shepard's apartment. They were about to leave through the door, when Hannah stopped Garrus dead in his tracks. She looked long and deep into his face, measuring him up. Trying to see what her daughter saw in his eyes, his scared face. At the end, she seemed to have reached a satisfyingly conclusion, for Hannah did give half a smirk.

"Stay Mr Vakarian. She needs you now, more than ever. You don't have to say anything. You don't have to do anything. Just... stay." There was a sad, yet honest transparency to her words; no clever remarks, no distractions. With a few words, she'd laid herself bare before Garrus.

With a gentle push, Garrus staggered a small step backwards and was inside the apartment again. Hannah stood out in the hallway and as the door closed, her lips curled into a sad, weak yet brave smile. Whatever hopes she had, she had pinned them on Garrus. One minute ticked into another and Garrus just stood there, looking at the closed door. The apartment was calm and quiet. There was a sense of serenity that sunk down all around, like a thick morning fog. It became one of those moments Garrus wanted to last and last. He'd few of those over the years, but at the very least he knew when they decided to grace him with their presence.

A deep cough shattered the silence like machine gun fire. Garrus jolted and spun around. Shepard was still sitting on the sofa, looking really out of shape. London must have been tough, even by Shepard's standards. Calmly Garrus walked over to where Shepard sat. It was clear that she still hasn't taken notice of him.

"Commander..." He called out to her softly.

Shepard raised her head somewhat in a daze, squinting her eyes and making other grimaces in an effort to focus. Garrus took a gentle seat next to her and just sat there, waiting patiently, faithfully. Leaning away from Garrus, Shepard more or less resumed her old pose of hiding her face behind her left hand, turning away from Garrus in shame.

"She asked you to..." Shepard swallowed hard. "...stay, didn't she?"

Garrus just nodded, looking away. A deep sniff came from Shepard, her frame calming down a few notches.

"An-an-any orders?" Shepard asked, her voice trembling and the words sounded fragile.

Garrus looked down on the floor, fiddled around with his fingers a little before answering; "Just to stay. Nothing more, nothing less."

"SHIT!" Shepard shouted, rising from the sofa and stomping off to the kitchen counter.

The sudden outburst snapped and cracked like a whip, making Garrus jump a little in his seat. He tracked Shepard with his eyes, not letting her out of his sight, taking in as much as he could. Something was terribly wrong, that much was obvious. But how bad was it and frankly speaking what was wrong?

"I-I-I su-su-suppose this is where I come clean, huh?" Shepard stammered with a voice that sounded like a scared little child.

Her hands were trembling bad as she tried to help herself with a glass of water from the sink. It was as if Shepard didn't have the strength to turn the valve, her hand acted more like a lump of rubber than the trained hands of a soldier. When the water did start running, she had problems holding the glass still enough to fill it up. Not even half full, the glass slipped out of Shepard hand and clattered into the kitchen sink. Resting her right hand just under her nose in a brave, yet futile effort to hold back her own tears, Shepard tried to close the water valve with her wobbly left hand by slapping it weakly at the valve, splashing water with every strike.

At this point Garrus had seen enough and got out of the sofa, walking up to Shepard and closed the valve for her. Standing right behind her, he felt her shoulders tremble and shake between sobs and brief, silent gasps for air. Putting his hands on her shoulders, Garrus just stood there, giving Shepard all the time she needed to clear out whatever she was carrying. A sad stillness surrounded the two of them as Shepard's trembling smoothed out and her sobs grew less frequent.

"Shepard... I..." Garrus began when he felt it was time to speak up, but the words failed him mid sentence. "I'm not... I'll listen to what you have to say. It might not make your troubles magically go away, but it just might help to talk about it. Like carrying a heavy shopping bag of groceries, shifting it from one hand to the other won't make it lighter, but.. easier to carry."

A faint chuckle escaped from Shepard between sniffs. That was a good sign Garrus thought to himself, though he wondered where he got the shopping bag from. Turning around, Shepard looked at Garrus, her tear and snot smeared face putting on a brave smile.

"G-g-groceries?" She asked with a short laugh.

"Yeah... not my best metaphor, I'll give you that one for free." Garrus admitted a bit shyly.

The two of them rested against the kitchen counter and Garrus waited ever so patiently while Shepard cleaned herself up with paper towels.

"Garrus..." Shepard began, tossing away the last paper towel. "L-L-L-London ch-ch-changed me. They f-f-f-found me in the rubble, survived the atmosphere entry a-a-a-a-as the Crucible broke up a-a-a-a-and fell down. They t-t-took me t-t-to Newcastle. Dr. Chakwas came by to p-p-p-patch me together again."

Garrus listen calmly, giving Shepard the time and breathing space needed to do her talking. There was a simmering rage building itself up underneath Shepard's words. He could feel the heat from Shepard's anger as if he was basking under the sun on Palaven. This must be hard to talk about, Garrus mused to himself. The wounds are still too fresh all things considered. Still, if left unattended for too long, these things will not mend properly and they stick around like an infested wound on your soul. Garrus was unsure if he was up to the challenge, but he'd be damned if he'd walk away from the commander now.

"Cerberus a-a-a-a-and their Project Lazarus was n-n-not suppose to endure what I did i-i-i-in London. Just listen to me talk. I-I-I-I can't even speak normally." Shepard said with a defeated tone of voice.

Gone were the words of confidence, diminished were the spirit that had pushed Garrus and the others above and beyond their limits. The solid and unconquerable commander Shepard of the human race were broken, a hallow and pale shadow of her former self. She was spent, burned out and reduced to a pile of pale ashes. Even humanities finest will at some point break and shatter, just like all the other mortals that had followed in her shadow as best they could.

"I'm dying Garrus. This Frankenstein a-a-a-" Shepard broke herself off, taking a deep breath through her nose in an effort to control and contain her anger. "ABOMINATION IS BREAKING UP IN THE SEAMS!"

The last words came out as a hollow shriek of the dead, eerily similar to how the husks sounded when they charged up for an all out attack. More sobs and tears followed, wails and cries that sounded like they were out of reach of any comfort. Shepard had kept it cool, calm and collected where others would have shattered like glass figurines. Garrus figured it was long overdue for the commander to vent out. 3 years, each feeling long enough to last a lifetime. He reached out a gentle, comforting hand to Shepard and was answered with a cold, stingy slap on the wrist.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Shepard shrieked, her voice shaking and peaking at high pitches, torso back bent forward as if she carried a boulder on her shoulders, tears streaming and snot dangling. "I'M A FREAK! UNDEAD! GET AWAY!"

Hesitant, Garrus stood frozen with his hand outstretch in a peace offering of comfort and understanding. Shepard's face was bent downward in every possible way, and in a few ways Garrus didn't think human faces could do.

"For the love of your Spirits Garrus... don't touch me." Shepard whimpered as weak and fragile as a snowflake fighting off the spring sun.

"What about Miranda? She could help, couldn't she?" Garrus suggested, retracting his hand.

"Dead, or close to it. S-s-s-she went all out at London a-a-a-a-and is now in a c-c-c-coma. It doesn't look good l-l-l-last I heard." Shepard replied, still sobbing, still ignoring the tears and snot.

"Shepard, I won't leave you." Garrus assured her.

"Don't be an idiot G-G-G-Garrus. You should find a girl, s-s-s-s-settle down, tell scary war stories t-t-t-t-to your kids and get scolded by your wife for it." Shepard brushed away Garrus' words and walked back to the sofa on trembling legs.

"No, I won't leave you." Garrus insisted, following Shepard, but at the same time giving her space.

"Y-y-you've got better things to do than c-c-c-c-c-change diapers on a Frankenstein. Get your thorny ass back to Palaven, give m-m-m-my regards to Solana and wish her a speedy recovery." Shepard disagreed, flopping down on the sofa and laying down.

"Diapers, commander?" Garrus asked, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table.

"To quote EDI: that was a joke. A-a-a-a-a-a-and stop with the commander. I'm done, so d-d-d-d-d-d-d-done. No more alliance, no m-m-m-more specter." Shepard said, with a sigh of relief.

Helping himself with some napkins from the coffee table, Garrus put one over Shepard's nose. She looked over at him as if asking if he was serious and Garrus just half shrugged, hinting that Shepard should just get it over with and blow her nose. Rolling her eyes in defeat, she finally did. Slowly the minutes rolled on as Garrus took one napkin after the other and carefully cleaned Shepard's face from tears and snot. While keeping his hands busy, Garrus' mind raced to find something, anything to turn this ship around. As far as he could tell, Shepard had already given up. Probably after hearing that Miranda would not be around to help out.

Cerberus were defeated, it was unlikely that anything remained of project Lazarus. If memory served Garrus right, the Cerberus station that housed Shepard for the duration of her restoration were attacked before the project was even completed. Miranda was their best bet, she'd be more than happy to assist as far as Garrus knew. While they have had their share of disagreements in the past, Shepard were one of the few that saw the human Miranda underneath her talents, name, rank and file. For that reason alone, Miranda was very grateful to Shepard and treasured her dearly.

"Garrus?" Shepard whispered softly.

"I'm here Shepard, what is it?" Garrus replied, straightening up.

"Do-do-don't tell the others, okay? Th-th-that I'm like this. Promise?" Shepard's voice lingered at the edge of hearing.

"You've got it Shepard. I won't tell a soul." Garrus assured her as best he could.

"Heh... you're a good man, Garrus. Best man in the whole galaxy." Shepard managed to force a smile.

"Well now, that would be high praise if it weren't such an obvious fact." Garrus chuckled.

"Could... could you tuck me in for the night? I-I-I-I-I've got the shivers for some reason." Shepard asked carefully, as if she didn't want to trouble Garrus any more than necessary.

Carefully he slid his arms under Shepard's fragile frame and with a gently slow motion lifted her up from the sofa. Shepard put her right arm around Garrus' neck, though he could feel that there wasn't much strength in its hold. Gliding across the floor and up the stairs like the ancient spirits of legend, Garrus carried Shepard to her bedroom. Rocking back and forth in Garrus' careful embrace, Shepard seemed to have found a sense of serenity and allowed herself a hint of a sleepy smile. By squatting down, Garrus lowered Shepard to her bed and gently fiddled around with the quilt before tucking her in.

A content sigh escaped Shepard while she curled up in a little ball underneath her quilt. Garrus took a seat on the edge of the bed and moved some strains of hair out of Shepard's face. Shortly afterwards, Shepard was sound asleep, letting out soft breathing sounds at a soothingly steady phase. After waiting for a good half hour, Garrus tip toed away and carefully closed the door behind him. Looking around, the apartment seemed so big and hollow. Garrus could almost hear the chatter and laughter from his last visit here, like a distant echo from a time long since lost.

A rough cough caught his ears and Garrus stepped up to Shepard's bedside with swift determination. Blood. Shepard was coughing up blood. Not that Garrus was a doctor by any stretch, but he did know that coughing up blood was generally speaking a bad thing, regardless of species. Except for the Hanar. Garrus wasn't sure if they even could cough up anything, blood or otherwise. Regardless, Garrus headed to the nearest bathroom and found a small towel, soaked it in lukewarm water and used it to clean the pillow and Shepard's mouth.

For the whole night Garrus sat by Shepard's bed, tending to her as best he could. Two times he changed her clothes and bed sheets due to sweat. Eight times he brought her water to drink. Four times he just sat silently and took in Shepard's tantrums, refusing to leave despite the screaming, begging, pleading, snot and tears. Five times he cleaned her face from tears and snot. One time he held her in his arms as tightly as he dared, quietly breaking down, terrified that he'd lost her. More times than he ever bothered to count, he sent a trembling prayer to the Spirits, pleading for Shepard's well being and recovery.

The morning finally arrived and Shepard's alarm clock started buzzing at 06:00. Garrus stopped the alarm with a calm hand and took a moment to look at Shepard's peaceful face. It had been a long night, but Garrus had pulled through. Spirits know how, but he had. Shepard lied on her right side, the quilt carefully tucked right up under her chin, her whole frame curled up in a comfortable ball and the edge of the quilt folded underneath her feet. There was a ring on the door bell at the front door.

"I better get that." Garrus muttered to himself, getting to his feet.

The lack of sleep was starting to get to Garrus as his walk was wobbly and not what could be called straight. The stairway would have been a worthy challenge, if Garrus hadn't relied to heavily on the stair rail. Finally arriving at the front door, Garrus had a good hunch who would come by and visit at this hour, so he opened the door without asking who it was. Hannah looked at Garrus and he looked straight back. Their eyes and faces exchanged words for several long minutes. Garrus felt like an open book, but he didn't really mind at this point. This particular reader had every right to read all the ugly details his face had to tell.

"You stayed." Hannah said finally, sounding relived.

"Yes ma'am." Garrus said, letting her in.

"How is she?" She asked Garrus, taking off her coat.

"At peace. Upstairs." Garrus replied, his voice and spirit could not muster to word it any other way.


End file.
